


Great Intentions

by solrosan



Series: All mobile phones should be turned off for the duration of the flight [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin’s and Anthea’s friends start taking an interest in their relationship. And what better way to show that you care than to ambush or kidnap the person your friend is dating?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In May, when I started to write this, I asked the fandot for help with Martin’s middle name, thank you all who pitched in. I went with [iamaslumberbatch’s](http://iamaslumberbatch.tumblr.com) suggestion, thank you!
> 
> Beta and sounding board has been the one who brought the lemon to North Korea, aka the lovely [zedille](http://zedille.tumblr.com). Thank you!

Holding her pumps in one hand, Anthea tiptoed out of the hotel room to not wake Captain Crieff— Martin — to not wake Martin. She had to stop thinking about him in such a formal way, though she knew he enjoyed it. She had, after all, seen more of him than she had her last two boyfriends, combined.

Anthea stopped just outside the door to put her shoes on. When she looked up, she saw Martin's first officer coming towards her.

“Ah, leaving the scene of the crime, I see,” he said. “Anthea, I suppose?”

“To you it’s Ms Somers,” she said, digging through her handbag to find her phone. 

“ _Ms Somers_.” He bowed theatrically. “First officer Douglas Richardson, at your service.”

“I know who you are, Mr Richardson.”

“Good, then may I have a quick word?”

“That depends.” Anthea found her phone, turning it on and immediately receiving five notifications. “How quick?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, waving his hand. “How much can one really—“

“If you buy me coffee and a blueberry muffin, you can talk until I’ve finished it,” Anthea interrupted, looking up from her inbox.

“After you, _Ms Somers_.” Douglas bowed again and gestured towards the lift. Anthea did her best to not roll her eyes, because, frankly, this man wasn’t worth it.

“So, what do you want to ‘have a quick word’ about?” Anthea asked once they were sitting at a small table in the hotel restaurant and she had her coffee and muffin.

“I think you know.”

“Yes, I think so too, but I don’t guess.”

Douglas smirked.

“Mr Richardson, I’m perfectly fine eating my muffin in silence. If you actually want to have this conversation, you will have to start it yourself.”

“Fine.” He looked quickly over his shoulder before he continued. “I don’t know what this is to you, but I _do_ know what this is to Martin and if you intentionally mislead him or isn’t serious about this, I’ll kindly ask you to break this off now.”

Anthea put down her coffee. “Your Captain is a grown man who can make his own decisions–”

“That’s debatable.”

“–and does not need you, or anyone else, to check up on his women.”

“I can assure you, there are no ‘women’. There’s only you.”

Something fluttered in Anthea’s chest, but she didn’t let it show. “And _I_ can assure _you_ : there have been other women. There are things you can only learn from practise.”

“Ah, yes, I agree,” he said. “If sex were something you could learn from a manual, Martin would be the greatest lover in the world.”

“Then perhaps you can learn it from a manual,” she said, and shrugged. Martin was far from the greatest lover in the world, but she didn’t mind exaggerating on his behalf. 

Douglas looked surprised. “Well, well… I see.”

“Mr Richardson,” she said, sighing. “I understand that you’re trying to look out for your friend, and that’s admirable, but this is just demeaning. You ambush me in the hallway, you make strange insinuations about things you have nothing to do with, and by this you’re not only insulting _me_ , but also your _Captain_ and his judgment.”

“I apologise, Ms Somers,” he said sincerely. “That wasn’t my intention at all.”

Anthea nodded once, accepting the apology. “As I said, I think your intentions are commendable. It’s your methods that are horrid.”

“Oh, I’ve done much worse.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all, but I wouldn’t use that as a defence,” Anthea said, finishing her breakfast. 

“I will keep that in mind.”

“And after three failed marriages, I also think you should avoid interfering with other people's relationships.” She picked up her phone and got up from the table.

“You don’t think _that_ might be the reason I’m doing it?”

Anthea looked up from her phone and met his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“It’s all right,” Douglas said, shrugging. “Admittedly, I don’t have the best of track records.”

“I have no intention of hurting Martin,” said Anthea after another moment of silence. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Ms Somers.”

“Anthea,” she said, smiling briefly. “And I have no intention of telling him about this conversation, either.”

“That’s also appreciated,” Douglas said. “I wouldn't want him to get the idea that I care about him.”

“No, that would be truly catastrophic,” Anthea said. Her phone rang, she sighed once she saw who it was. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Thank you for breakfast, Mr Richardson.” 

“Call me Douglas.” He got up from the table. “And go ahead, I’ve promised to look at the carp in the pond with Arthur before we leave today.”

“Be careful, Douglas. Your caring is showing,” said Anthea, smiling. She answered her phone and waved goodbye as she walked out of the restaurant.

On the way out, she passed Arthur. He was shouting, trying to get Douglas’ attention, and she thought that Martin’s adopted family was quite wonderful, if odd.

* * *

Douglas waved Anthea off, and kept waving as he saw Arthur coming towards him shouting his name.

“Good morning, Douglas.”

“A surprisingly good one, indeed,” Douglas said, looking after Anthea. 

Arthur followed his eyes. “Who’s that?”

“Believe it or not, and I won’t blame you if you don’t, but I think that woman just leaving is Martin’s girlfriend.”

“Skip has a girlfriend?” Arthur gaped.

“I’m as shocked as you are,” Douglas said. “Actually, I think I’m more shocked than you are.”

“Wow!” Arthur said, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s brilliant.”

“Yes, Arthur, it’s actually quite brilliant.” Douglas put on his uniform jacket. “But Martin wants to keep it a secret, so you’ll have to pretend you don’t know about it.”

“Why would he want that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. For the sake of romance? There’s always something quite intriguing adding a bit of _mystery_ to a relationship.”

Arthur looked confused. “What?”

“Never mind,” Douglas said, half regretting that he had told Arthur. Now Martin would know about his little meeting with Anthea before take-off. Not that it would be the end of the world, though it might make the next couple of flights rather icy.

Douglas put an arm around Arthur’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go and look at those carp.”


	2. Chapter 2

”Get in the car, Captain Crieff.” The driver held the door open for him. 

Martin looked around one last time before getting into the black car (a Jaguar XJ (X351), Martin knew cars almost as well as he knew aeroplanes). In the backseat, waiting for him, sat a dark-haired man about Martin’s own age. Martin found the man intimidating, though he couldn't put his finger on why. There was something about his eyes and the way he seemed to X-ray Martin like a baggage scanner that made him very uneasy.

The man nodded once. “Captain.” 

“Ehm… hello.” Martin placed his hat between them and reached for the seat belt. The man seemed to find this amusing. He wasn't wearing the seat belt himself; Martin imagined it would probably ruin his suit

“Where are we going?” Martin asked as the chauffeur entered the car and they drove off.

“To see my brother,” the man said, taking out his phone.

“Your…? I don’t- Who are you?”

“A concerned party,” said the man, without looking at him. “We both are.”

“Concerned about what? Because I swear it was Douglas who—“

“We don’t care about the petty smuggling. At least I don’t. My brother might, actually.” The man looked up from his phone. “What was it this time, caviar?”

“Salmon roe,” Martin said, clearing his throat. 

“You should try to get in on that, it pays better than moving boxes.”

“I… em…” Martin’s cheeks turned red. “Who’s—who’s your brother?”

“The most dangerous man you’ll ever meet,” the man said casually. “But don’t worry, he’s too lazy to kill anyone himself. These days.”

“People will notice that I’m missing!”

The man snorted. “No, they won’t. You’ll be back before they have time to miss you.”

Martin turned away and looked out the window. The man next to him didn’t seem to care, because he turned back to his phone and started fiddling with it. Martin glanced at him from time to time, but he didn’t dare ask any more questions.

After what felt like an eternity (though Martin noticed that they had hardly left Fitton) the car drove into a large, seemingly abandoned building. Martin looked at the man again, his panic raising.

“We’re here,” he announced, nodding at the car door. “Go on. It’s not a good idea to keep my brother waiting.”

The chauffeur opened the door and with one last look at the man – who had turned back to his phone – Martin stepped out of the car. He didn’t notice that he left his cap in the back seat.

The building reminded Martin of a hangar, and he realised that he must be at the old Fitton Airfield. For a split second that made him feel at ease, but then he noticed the silhouette of a man a couple of meters ahead. 

“Please come closer, Captain Crieff,” the man said, waving him over. Martin obeyed on trembling legs. 

For some reason, this man had an umbrella on his arm, even though it hadn’t rained for two weeks and, just like the man in the car, he wore a well-tailored suit. The way he looked at him made it clear to Martin that this was, without a doubt, the brother. Martin had a hard time imagining this man living up to the description of being the most dangerous man he’d ever meet, but then no one ever believed he was an airline captain either.

“People will notice if I’m missing,” Martin stuttered. “I’m supposed to fly to Trondheim tomorrow.”

“Yes, indeed you are.” The man paused and smiled a very unpleasant smile. “So, Captain Crieff, how do you know Ms Anthea Somers?”

“An- Anthea?” Martin looked back to the car, half expecting her to appear. 

“Oh, she’s not here, Captain Crieff.”

“What have you done to her?” Martin asked, trying to stand taller, even though he felt his knees shaking.

“Chained her to a desk. Figuratively speaking, of course,” said the man, frowning. “Though she might have preferred it to be literally.”

“How– how do you know Anthea?” 

“Intimately, though not in the Biblical sense,” the man said, leaning on his heels for a moment. “But I’m not the one who's supposed to be answering questions, Captain Crieff. What are your intentions with Ms Somers?”

“Ehm… Biblical?”

For a split second it looked like the man was going to smile, but it didn’t become more than a small twisting of the lips. Clearing his throat, the man took out a notebook from the inside of his jacket, and flipped it open.

“Martin Anthony Crieff,” the man read absently, as if he just needed to get through it to get to the more interesting parts. “34 years old. Founder, owner, and only employee of Icarus Removals. Pilot at MJN Air. Needed _seven_ tries to pass his CPL – Is that why Mrs Knapp-Shappey doesn’t pay you?”

“Eh….”

“Captain Crieff,” the man looked gravely serious all of a sudden as he put the notebook back in his jacket. “I care deeply for Ms Somers, and so does my brother with whom you rode here. I assure you, you do not want to hurt her.”

“Is she your sis—“ began Martin, before he realised what was actually going on. “Wait, are —are you threatening me?” 

“’Threaten’ is such a harsh word.”

“I- I- I don’t….” Martin’s mouth had become very dry. “How… I promise you that Ms— Anthea doesn’t need to be saved by Batman and Robin.” 

The man raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, Anthea can take care of herself and doesn’t need… she doesn’t need anyone to protect her,” Martin said, trying to keep his voice steady. “If anyone's going to end up hurt, it’ll be me.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Captain Crieff.” The man frowned, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “For some reason, she seems to have grown rather fond of you.”

“How…? What’s that…? Er. What? Who are you?”

The man smiled amusedly. “Apparently, I’m Batman.”

The car started behind them, and Martin jumped.

“The car will take you back to Fitton Airfield now.” The man’s smile was either satisfied or evil now, Martin couldn’t tell. “Good day, Captain Crieff.”

Martin looked suspiciously at the man, who just stood there, waiting for him to leave. He was looking at with the same tired disinterest Douglas looked at flight reports, as if he was something he wished gone. Martin decided to take the opportunity to get out of there, and he turned around without as much as a nod of farewell. He didn’t think the man deserved politeness.

To his surprise (and relief), the back seat was empty. This might have been the strangest thing Martin had ever experienced.

* * *

Sherlock walked up to his brother as the car drove off, and they watched it disappear together. 

“So what do you think?”

“That you’d look terrible in tights and a cape,” Sherlock said, retrieving a package of cigarettes from his inner pocket. He offered one to his brother. “Don’t tell John.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mycroft took out a lighter and lit both their cigarettes as they walked to the car that was going to take them back to London. “So, what _do_ you think?”

“About his strain of failed CPLs and his financial struggles, or the fact that he’s relentless and never seems to give up?” 

Mycroft nodded to confirm that he was thinking about the same thing. “She could do much worse.”

“Yes.” Sherlock smirked. “And I really liked how he told you off.”

“I imagine you enjoyed that.”

“She’ll probably kill us when she finds out.”

“I’d like to see her try.” Mycroft smirked and dropped his cigarette to the ground as they reached the car. Sherlock did the same, and actually bothered to open the car door for his brother. 

It had been an altogether entertaining day.


End file.
